


The Emperor That Burned and the God That Remained Silent

by AutumnVine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dorothea as Edelgard's retainer, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, Mute My Unit | Byleth, Political Prisoners, The Nabateans + Byleth as a Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnVine/pseuds/AutumnVine
Summary: Through a cruel twist of fate, Byleth Eisner was born, and subsequently failed, to be the thirteenth vessel for the Goddess. More than two decades later as Garreg Mach comes under Imperial occupation, she finds her quiet existence uprooted by the presence of Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg and the curious bond that pulls them together.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 97
Kudos: 383





	1. Defeat, Capture, and Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of clarity, dialogue written in _italics_ is expressed through sign language. If a character is interpreting for another, the verbal repeat of what was signed will be omitted, for easier reading.

It’s late in the evening as the council fires die out and the war drums beat that Rhea ascends the ramparts overlooking the monastery’s grand entrance.

Byleth can only watch from down below, clutching a trembling Flayn as closely as she is able. They are both scared, and she knows that despite not showing it, Seteth and Rhea are scared too. The brave Knights of Seiros line all empty spaces, their weapons drawn and expressions fierce, and yet she knows they must be scared as well. It was only reasonable, after all.

For the Flame Emperor had come, bringing war to their doorstep.

Even though she has no way of knowing what Rhea was seeing, Byleth is pretty sure she can imagine it; hordes of soldiers gathered in tight formations, siege weapons drawn up and tense. From her spot down below she can still see the smoke from their campfires almost blotting out the approaching stars.

Rhea says nothing as she surveys over the walls, her features pulled taut. If she deigns not to be the first one to speak, her request is granted when a booming voice enhanced by magic resonates through the air, reaching everyone present.

“ **Members of the Church of Seiros.** ”

The pause that the voice leaves is deafening. Flayn whimpers slightly, and Byleth runs a reassuring hand up and down her back.

“ **You know who I am. You know why I am here. And you know what it is I want.** ”

Seteth grimaces with each word. His eyes flit between Rhea and his daughter, and he nods gratefully at the sight of Byleth comforting her.

“ **This need not end in bloodshed. Lay down your weapons and your lives will be spared. Refuse… and you will be crushed without mercy.** ”

And with the offer made, silence falls on them again. Rhea stares blankly into the empty space between heaven and earth before lowering her head and descending back down to join them.

“Rhea…” Seteth grips his spear tightly, wavering on his feet. Days of planning and preparing had left them all exhausted, on the verge of collapse. Even Thunder Catherine looked at them with sunken eyes, knuckles white against Thunderbrand’s hilt. “Be honest with us… do we have a chance?”

“No,” she replies without hesitation. “Even if I were to take to the field myself… they outnumber us a hundred to one.”

“Are you sure? I do not mean to sound cowardly, but…”

Her mouth a thin line, Rhea indicates no. “There is zero guarantee for anyone’s safety, regardless of the Immaculate One’s prowess.” She pans her bloodshot eyes over the assembled Knights of Seiros. “And I do not wish to leave the rest to their deaths.”

“Then what will we do?” Flayn asks, trying to sound more courageous than she appears.

“Do we dare take a gamble with the Emperor?” Seteth looks to Rhea for guidance. “For all we know, she won’t keep her word.”

Exhaling deeply, Rhea shakes her head. “What choice do we have?” Her hands are trembling, and Byleth reaches over to grab one, smiling softly as if to offer her thoughts on the matter. Eyes widening, Rhea nods, her mind now made up.

“We must place our faith in the Goddess…” Gesturing to the assembled soldiers, she draws her own sword, then plants it straight down in the nearest flowerbed of blood-red roses. Following her lead, Seteth does the same with his spear. One by one, Catherine, Shamir and Alois join them.

And the monastery reverberates with the sound of metal striking stone as the Knights throw their weapons to the ground.

~~✿~~

The four of them are swiftly taken into custody, their wrists shackled - evidently the Empire didn’t trust them fully, even in surrender - then escorted to different rooms. Much to Byleth’s relief Seteth and Flayn are allowed to remain together, and the defiant fire in Rhea’s eyes lets her know she isn’t completely defeated.

Despite any long-standing animosity between the two factions, the Imperial soldiers aren’t rough, a brunette with stunning emerald eyes double checking Byleth’s binds to ensure they weren’t too tight.

“It’ll be okay,” she reassures her. “Edelgard is always true to her word. Trust me.”

Byleth senses the honesty in the stranger’s melodic voice, and she dips her head in thanks. Letting herself be led away, she’s surprised that the Imperial was escorting her somewhere familiar; the monastery greenhouse. Humming to herself, her temporary captor locks the shackles to a length of chain bolted to the floor, giving Byleth more than enough slack to stay upright.

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes once the key is slipped back into a pocket of her tunic. “Her Majesty needs time to discuss terms with Lady Rhea… and I figured we might as well wait somewhere nice.”

At least they can both agree on that. The flowers were in full bloom, a colorful array from all across Fódlan. Much of her free time was usually spent here, tending to the plants. Now… it felt strange to be a prisoner in the building she so cherished.

Yanking on the manacles that lashed her hands together, Byleth feels silenced. She isn’t particularly frightened in regards to herself, but that didn’t stop her from worrying for the other members of her family. Unlike her they were full-blooded in their heritage, and the Empire’s disdain for their kind had been made clear.

Noticing her pursed expression, the brunette offers a small smile. “Hey, it’ll be alright. I promise.”

Byleth tilts her head in doubt.

“Not much for talking huh? Look, I know it’s easy for me to say this being on the other side… but Edie - Emperor Edelgard - means well, even if that can be hard to believe.”

A gesture with the restraints is Byleth’s response.

“Right…” The Imperial sighs.

Byleth giggles nervously inside her own head, then nudges the other woman with her shoulder, smiling now in turn.

“Oh… you’re teasing me!” She looks relieved. “Hubie keeps telling me to stop _fraternizing with the prisoners_ , but that’s not fair. We’re all just people, aren’t we?’

Even though she doesn’t consider herself as fully human, Byleth appreciates the sentiment. At the very least, this particular Adrestian wasn’t that bad.

They spend some more time together, admiring the flowers while the brunette Imperial talks about all manner of topics. Byleth, as always, elects to simply listen, calmed by her positive attitude. She does point proudly at the plants she helped nurture, and her captor is particularly taken with a bloom of sunflowers that tower over them.

That’s when the door to the greenhouse opens and two new individuals step in. One is a tall man with foppish black hair covering one eye, a seemingly perpetual scowl affixed across his face.

The other… she doesn’t need to be told who this one is.

Like most in the Church, she had heard the stories of a horned monster wreathed in fire that called itself _the Flame Emperor_. Wicked, ambitious, and power-hungry above all else, the Flame Emperor conquered the sleepless daydreams and waking nightmares of Fódlan’s faithful long before she turned her gaze to the Church and its lands.

But what surprised Byleth most was just how different she was from that initial portrayal. Between the locks of white hair tucked beneath golden horns, deceptively short stature and bright, piercing lavender irises, the Emperor captured her attention in a way she didn’t fully understand.

It’s practically enough to make her forget she’s at this woman’s mercy.

Dropping her head, Byleth tries her best to act respectful. She’s interacted with a few high-and-mighty nobles over the course of her life, and imagines the Adrestian Emperor would be no different. Better to try and stay on whatever good side she might have.

Yet she suddenly feels the cool touch of metal underneath her chin as the Emperor reaches out with her steel gauntlet. Almost gently she lifts up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“You…” Her voice is quiet, but no less powerful or commanding as her presence would suggest. “Who are you?”

Byleth just blinks.

“I know Seiros, and Cichol and Cethleann… but not you.”

The ease of how she recites those names sends a chill down Byleth’s spine. She had gone her whole life clued in to the double identities of her family members, but it was hidden knowledge, buried to history with the intent of keeping them safe. How could the Empire have found out?

Tilting her head, the Emperor appears _frustrated_. “Seiros told me you were adopted, and yet you share her features…” A hand drifts to Byleth’s green hair, then brushes it aside to reveal rounded ears. “Born human, and still…”

Byleth flinches, then pulls away as much as she can until the chain snaps tight.

“Edie, you’re making her uncomfortable,” the brunette complains, stepping defensively between them. “How would you feel if someone examined you like some sort of specimen?”

Eyes widening, the Emperor’s expression contorts to resemble guilt. “I… that was not my intention.” She motions towards the brunette. “Dorothea, if you would.” Quickly the shackles are undone, and Byleth steps back further while rubbing her wrists.

It takes a moment, but she eventually musters up the courage to reply. With less than steady hands, she signs at the Emperor, _Please don’t touch me without asking._

The confusion is evident. “I don’t understand.”

“Your Majesty, if I may,” the tall man interjects. Then to Byleth’s immense delight, he signs back, _Will you allow me to interpret for you?_

_Please._

A nod. “Your Majesty, she asked that you do not touch her without permission from now on.”

The Emperor takes a moment to process that before nodding as well. “Of course. That was careless of me.”

_Thank you._ And then, _Is my family safe?_

“They are.” The Emperor crosses her arms together. “You yielded, and so I kept my promise.”

Byleth didn’t feel like recognizing someone for choosing not to kill and says nothing, though she can feel her legs shake in relief.

“I believe some introductions on my part are in order.” The Emperor motions to the man at her side. “This is Hubert von Vestra, my right hand.”

He bows his head in greeting.

“And this is Dorothea Arnault, who also serves as my retainer.”

The brunette waves at Byleth, who waves back.

“As for me…” The Emperor gestures to herself. “My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg, and from this moment on, I am your emperor.”

Byleth’s never been ruled by anyone before, and it is a curious feeling to suddenly lose one’s sovereignty. But rather than complain, she curtsies in an attempt to be polite. _My name is Byleth._

“Lady Byleth… yes, Seiros said as much. I believe she is your adoptive mother?”

Byleth shakes her head, then signs, _My maternal grandmother._

“I see.” Edelgard doesn’t quite seem to believe that, but she doesn’t press any further. “Let me explain what is going to happen. As part of the terms of surrender, I have seized control of both the Church of Seiros and Garreg Mach monastery.”

_What comes next?_

“While it is not my intention to strip away the people’s faith, significant changes must be made to integrate the Church into my new Fódlan. For now, you and your kin will remain here under supervision while I work on my reformation efforts.”

_And our religious duties?_

“Are you a priest of some kind?”

Byleth nods, obscuring the fact that she was typically saddled with the jobs no one else wanted.

“You are more than welcome to continue them, so long as they do not run contradictory towards my new policies.”

That was something at least. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that their lives had just changed so dramatically, and most certainly not for the better. Without Dorothea’s reassurances Byleth might very well have broken down under the weight of such uncertainty.

“Let me make something clear, however,” Edelgard continues, narrowing her eyes. “As I told Seiros, but with the capture of Garreg Mach the war is now over. There are no more enemies to oppose the Empire, which means that any and all resistance is futile. Do you understand what I am saying?”

_Yes, I do_ , Byleth signs. She may be rather naive and sheltered, but even she could recognize a threat when she heard one.

“Very good.” Edelgard looks around the greenhouse, settling on a patch of red carnations. She waves dismissively. “You may go.”

Not needing to be told twice, Byleth nods gratefully to both Dorothea and Hubert, then scrambles out of the building as fast as she can. Outside and no worse for wear stand Rhea, Seteth and Flayn, who sweep her up in a group hug immediately, not even bothering to hold back tears of relief and sorrow.

“I was so scared,” Flayn whispers, and Seteth pulls her closer. “That I wouldn’t see you again…”

“We are alive, Little One,” Rhea says, wiping away a stray teardrop from her niece’s cheek. “For now… let us focus on that.”

Byleth smiles, signing _I love you_ , onto their backs as she continues to hold her family as tightly as she can. That at least hadn’t been taken away from them.

~~✿~~

Edelgard twirls the stem of a carnation around in her metal-encased fingers, frowning. Despite having won the war’s final battle without spilling a single drop of blood, taking the monastery elicited no satisfaction. She turns to her retainers, letting the flower fall to the floor.

“Tell me, what do you make of her? This… Byleth.”

“She’s trouble,” Hubert instantly replies. “Well-meaning perhaps, but a rogue variable we didn’t account for.”

Dorothea shakes her head in disagreement. “I think she’s a sweetheart. Though I wonder what the explanation for her muteness is…”

Growling under her breath, Edelgard contemplates bringing in Seiros for a more detailed interrogation. Hubert might at least enjoy that. “It just doesn’t make any sense. She claims to be related to the War-Saint, yet none of the documentation we recovered from Shambhala indicates her ever having children.”

“Thales may not have known everything,” Dorothea points out. “Especially if Seiros wanted to keep this a secret.”

“A hybrid Child of the Goddess…” Edelgard isn’t sure if she’s comfortable with the implications. But there’s no time to dwell deeply on such matters, not with so much still left to accomplish. “For now, let’s just keep on eye on her. I’ll try to pry more information out of the others when possible.”

“We are going to treat them fairly, right Edie? I know you aren’t fond of the Nabateans, but they are still living beings.” Dorothea’s boldness in questioning her emperor was well-known among the Imperial forces, but it was for that exact reason that Edelgard kept her so close, even if it lead to frequent aggravation.

“I will keep my word,” she replies. “But it’s up to Seiros and her ilk to keep themselves in line.”

Hubert scoffs as if he didn’t believe that possible.

“Make no mistake, they are still not to be trusted,” Edelgard states. “But so long as we can control the Immaculate One, we also hold the faithful in our grasp as well.”

She hums a little note to herself, imagining the power they were playing with.

“Lest they all face the consequences.”

And with that she raises a foot and crushes the carnation under her heel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes on this AU
> 
> \- Jeralt died shortly after Sitri, leaving Rhea to raise Byleth. 
> 
> \- The Church never started the Officer's Academy. Instead, each capital city hosts their own. 
> 
> \- Edelgard invades and conquers the Kingdom and Alliance, then defeats Those who Slither in the Dark before fighting the Church. Claude fled to Almyra while Dimitri remains alive, but in hiding.


	2. Adjustment

Byleth had always been an early riser, a trait she was told had been inherited from her father. Even as captain of the now defunct Knights of Seiros he kept the dawn patrol along with his men, enjoying the crisp morning air no matter the season. While it admittedly wasn’t much, she cherished this small connection to the man she never knew.

Climbing down the stairs of their shared living quarters, she sees that Rhea is already up as well, sitting at the table with a mug of tea and a solemn expression.

_Good morning_ , she greets her, relieved to see a smile appear on the former Archbishop’s face.

“Dear child…” Rhea motions with her arms, and Byleth gives a quick hug before sitting down next to her. “Good morning to you as well.”

Looking her over she can see the evidence of a restless sleep; wrinkled clothing, messy hair and dark circles under Rhea’s eyes.

_Long night?_

Rhea sighs in confirmation. “The Emperor kept me late again. Not that I mind assisting where I can, it’s just…”

_I understand._ Byleth could only imagine what it was like watching your life’s work be torn down. _Are you safe?_

The small smile Rhea gives is reassuring. “Safe enough, my child. She really just calls me in to complain about whatever rule or tradition she intends to throw out next.” Getting up, she makes a cup of tea for Byleth as well, who takes it gratefully. “Have I ever told you about Wilhelm?”

Byleth shakes her head.

“Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg…” Rhea sounds almost nostalgic as she recites his name. “The first Adrestian Emperor… and my friend.” Her hand trembles slightly. “When I walked the land as Seiros he was but an ambitious warlord that called Enbarr his domain… but in each other we found kindred spirits that shared a profound sense of loss and grief.”

Byleth tilts her head in curiosity.

“Together we created the Empire in an attempt to cast down the man who had taken so much from us. In exchange, he supported the fledgling Church and what remained of my family. I even…” Rhea’s voice falters briefly. “… even bestowed upon him my own crest, hoping to extend his life.”

_Did you love him?_

“Love?” Rhea snorts in amusement, then reaches over to ruffle Byleth’s hair. “What’s got you thinking about love, my dear child?”

_The way you talk about him._

There’s a moment where she contemplates that before responding. “Perhaps I loved him in my own way. But our bond was forged with blood and vengeance… and human lives are so painfully short. To love one would be to blink and see it gone in an instant.”

That sounded so monumentally sad to Byleth.

_And now…_

“… And now his descendent is undoing everything we built.” Rhea laughs ruefully. “It’s terribly ironic, isn’t it?”

Taking a long sip of tea, Byleth contemplates this. _Is she anything like him?_

“Thats the worst part, because she’s almost his spitting image,” Rhea replies with a long sigh. “The determination, ambition and even stubbornness… It’s as if Wilhelm himself is staring back at me. Except… my Wilhelm had eyes the color of storm-clouds, and hair dark as a walnut.”

Byleth did find the current Emperor’s physical traits striking in their own way; snow-white locks and penetrating lilac irises. Compared to her own features they were harsh and unyielding, regal and…

… Quickly shaking her head to expel the image, Byleth tries to focus on anything else but the woman currently holding her family hostage.

As if she knew, Rhea reaches over and taps her lightly on the hand. “My dear… you are aware of how much you mean to me, yes?”

Nodding, Byleth squeezes her hand in turn. _Of course I do._ Then, _Is something wrong?_

“It’s just…” Rhea’s expression darkens. “I cannot help but feel as though I have failed all of you.”

_You saved our lives,_ Byleth protests, making quick motions for emphasis.

“And delivered us into the hands of our enemies. If anything were to happen, I…”

So rare was it to see the normally stoic and bright Seiros filled with such uncertainty that Byleth gets up and embraces her tightly. She doesn’t quite know how to express her appreciation for the woman who raised her, but hopes this gets her point across.

“Byleth…” Rhea shakes slightly. “Please… I need to be our pillar of strength…”

_Nope,_ she signs stubbornly. _You taught me to be strong too._

Choking back a laugh, Rhea nods. She brushes aside Byleth’s bangs, then plants a kiss on her forehead. “You remind me so much of your mother. She was… deceptively tenacious, even in spite of her health.”

There’s a pang in her chest at this acknowledgment.

“I wish you could have known her,” she continues. “And your father too. But they loved you, with all their hearts.”

Byleth nods with a heavy head.

“Ah.” Rhea adopts a guilty look. “I didn’t mean to drudge up the past.”

_You must miss them too._

“More than anything.” Rhea’s breath falls still for a moment. “Losing Jeralt and Sitri so close to each other… almost losing you… I’d hoped never to feel that pain again.”

_I’m sorry._

But Rhea just chuckles softly. “You hardly need to apologize to me, dear child. You were the one who was hurt the most.”

Perhaps that was true, but all she can really remember of her early life was Rhea’s affectionate parenting, followed by Seteth’s more disciplined style once he and Flayn arrived to stay with them at the monastery.

“Why don’t we speak of other things,” the former Archbishop offers as a peaceful stopping point. “What are you planning on doing today?”

_Flayn and I were going to spend some time together before our evening duties._

Rhea smiles warmly. “It sets my heart at ease knowing the two of you look out for each other. Seteth is grateful as well… this entire situation has been rather stressful for them both.”

That creates the spark of a plan for Byleth. _Why don’t we surprise them with breakfast?_

“Oh, that’s a lovely idea!” Clapping her hands together with enthusiasm, Rhea rises to her feet as she joins Byleth in the adjacent kitchen. “What shall we make?”

_Pancakes,_ she signs back immediately, already pulling the ingredients from the pantry. _It has to be pancakes._

Chortling to herself, Rhea sets to work lighting the stove with a small burst of fire magic. “ _Has to be_ , huh?”

_Yes,_ she responds, inviting no further discussion.

~~✿~~

The days following the start of the occupation had been a flurry of change and activity.

Edelgard’s first act as provisional leader of the Church was to dissolve the office of the Archbishop, removing Rhea and Seteth as leaders of the organization. Immediately after, the Knights of Seiros were disbanded in their entirety, stripping the Church of its former military might. Each member was given a choice; take a severance pay, or be incorporated into the Imperial Army.

Most chose the former.

Garreg Mach monastery soon filled with unfamiliar faces, primarily diplomats and advisors to the Emperor, but also Imperial guards serving as both their protectors and jailers. Most, Byleth found, were polite and understanding, if maybe a little too imbued with that famous Adrestian stubbornness.

Yet she couldn’t help but increasingly feel like a stranger in her own home.

“I miss going into town,” Flayn complains as her hands deftly braid Byleth’s light green hair into a wide plait.

Amused, Byleth signs to her, _But Seteth never let you go in the first place._

“I know that,” she replies. “But now he isn’t allowed to leave Garreg Mach either.”

That much was true. In fact, none of them were; it was a strict condition of their house arrest, emphasized heavily by Edelgard.

_You just miss the candy he used to bring._

Grumbling for a moment, Flayn eventually nods. “I really do miss those.”

_Me too._

When Flayn finishes the two of them settle in under the large oak they had been using for shade, hazy sunlight filtering through the branches and summer leaves. Its remote location on the monastery grounds made it easy to forget just how different things were now.

“Are you doing okay?” Flayn eventually asks, her head resting against Byleth’s shoulder. “I worry sometimes, you know.”

_That’s my job_ , she replies, smiling all the same. _But yes, I’m okay._

“That’s good.” Flayn stays quiet for a moment before speaking again, only this time her voice is more of a whisper. “I’ve started having nightmares again.”

Those words feel like a knife has been shoved inside Byleth’s heart, and she reaches over to pull her sister close. _About the war?_

A nod of her head, and Flayn rests against the crook of Byleth’s shoulder so she can more easily see her hands. “It’s always the same. Death and blood and dying… then I see _him._ ”

She doesn’t need to ask who.

“I only saw him once, at Tailtean.” Flayn shivers. “But in that single instant, when his eyes settled on me… I could make out the _hatred_ he held for us. Even though I had never done anything to harm him, he despised me with every ounce of his being.”

Byleth understands where she’s going with this. _It isn’t the same now. The Imperials may not mean well, but they won’t hurt us._

“But how do we know that? Edelgard promised to destroy us if we didn’t surrender, and then threatened us further so we would stay submissive.”

Reaching out, Byleth gently brushes Flayn’s hair, wishing now that she could sing to her like Rhea often did for them. She was worried too, though for some reason she couldn’t fully quantify, she trusted Edelgard’s word about their safety.

_I won’t let anyone hurt you, my little Saint,_ she signs, the old nickname dragging a groan out of her.

“Ugh, must I always remind you that I am older? Much older!” But still she settles back, smiling. “At least… I think Dorothea is very nice.”

_Agreed. I like her._

It wasn’t hard to. The brunette seemed to go out of her way to check in on them, making sure they were well-supplied and taken care of within the shifting framework of the monastery’s new management. She had even earned a smile from Seteth, something of an absolute rarity.

“I suppose if the Emperor is willing to keep someone like her close at hand, she can’t be _all_ bad,” Flayn concedes. “But… what do you think about Edelgard?”

Byleth has to think about that for a moment. She hadn’t seen much of the Emperor since their first meeting, apparently having shut herself away in whatever room she had commandeered as an office. Still, it was difficult to shake the image of those intense lavender eyes scrutinizing her as she stood chained in the greenhouse.

_She’s rather serious._

No, that wasn’t enough to describe her.

_But… I also think kind of interesting._

“Oh?” Tilting her head, Flayn tries to get a good look at Byleth, expression curious. “And you say that because…”

_I’ve never met an Emperor before._

Something about that answer coaxes a giggle out of Flayn. “Is that it? Believe me, when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

_Well excuse me for not being over a thousand years old, _Byleth jokingly signs back.__

__

__Flayn just hums and Byleth continues to stroke her hair, helping to calm them both. It wasn’t easy on any of them, she knew that. Rhea had made the decision that directly saved their lives, and living with those consequences was now the hardest part._ _

__

~~✿~~

“Agh!”

The weight of her axe sends shockwaves through Edelgard’s arm as she swings, working through the last motion of the combat exercise. Coming to a halt with one foot in front of the other, she pants heavily with the completion of the final stance.

After a week of nothing but sitting in a chair and signing papers, being able to sneak out at night for some training felt utterly liberating. While the end of the war also meant an end to the fighting, she would not allow herself to grow complacent in the shadow of peace.

Taking up another stance, Edelgard twirls the axe over her head, twisting her body with one solid strike forward and then back to the other side. Her weapon flows through the air with each change in her motion and footwork.

With a yell - a trait she had unfortunately picked up from Caspar - Edelgard smashes downward, the head of the axe tearing into the ground and kicking up a cloud of dirt. The successful execution of the move brought forth a burst of satisfaction.

She had used the same action to rend Thales’s body in half only a few months ago.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Edelgard turns around and quickly comes to the rather disquieting realization that she was no longer alone.

Byleth Eisner stands at the entrance to the training yard, her head tilted in curiosity. Even with the encroaching moonlight, the Emperor can still make out the green hue of her hair and pupils, eerily identical to that of Rhea. The half-Nabatean’s expression was a strange mix of admiration and fear, her cheeks flushed pale as she stares at her.

It was certainly unnerving that she hadn’t been able to detect her presence until that moment, though Hubert would think the unintended intimidation a positive side-effect.

“Can I help you with something, Lady Byleth?” Edelgard asks, her weapon resting against the dirt as she leans on it.

There’s a second-long pause, then she holds up a large key.

“Ah.” Now that she took the time to notice, it had grown rather late. “I have finished for the evening, so you are more than welcome to lock up after me.”

She nods, but doesn’t move. Instead her eyes flit uneasily downwards to the axe still in Edelgard’s hand.

“Hmmm?” She raises the simple iron axe. “Something the matter?”

The other woman flinches.

Oh. This was interesting. “Tell me,” Edelgard asks, intending for it to come across as an order, “are you familiar with any manner of weaponry?”

Byleth shakes her head.

That was unexpected. The Saints had been formidable warriors in their own right, and Edelgard found it odd Rhea hadn’t trained her progeny in the art of combat as a result.

“What about magic?”

In response Byleth holds up a hand and allows some light to shine from her palm as she casts a basic heal spell.

Faith magic. Edelgard wasn’t surprised - Saint Cethleann was supposedly skilled in the craft, and the talent was widely advocated within the Church.

Still… that meant Byleth possessed no ability in any form of lethal warfare. Perhaps that had informed Rhea’s decision to surrender without a fight.

“Were you forbidden from learning?”

Another nod.

Strange. Perhaps Rhea had been concerned for the safety of her supposed granddaughter. Or maybe those with only half of the Goddess’s bloodline possessed some inherent frailty. There was still so much she had yet to understand about them.

Especially her.

She had thought the Children figured out, years spent studying them from both religious text and Agarthan intelligence. Seiros was a contradiction; controlling and caring and constraining. Cichol was easier to make sense of, for his loyalties were strictly to that of his family. And Cethleann simplest yet, with a bright-eyed innocence that beguiled her true maturity.

But this one… Byleth was frustrating and paradoxical in her existence. What was it that Dorothea had called her? A _sweetheart_. No, Hubert’s initial judgement seemed far more apt. This woman was trouble, whether she knew it or not.

“Very well. I apologize for the impromptu questioning.”

She nods, then lets the corners of her mouth wrinkle in a soft smile.

“Is something amusing to you?” Edelgard asks, instantly on the defensive.

Eyes growing large, Byleth quickly shakes her head. She puts her hands together and in a rather decent imitation, replicates part of the form movements she had witnessed. Then she points to herself.

It takes her a moment to understand.

“I… you enjoyed watching me?”

A nod.

Stunned, Edelgard has to bite back the urge to reprimand the other woman. Yet she can’t help but be partially disarmed by that smile.

“I see…” Edelgard coughs lightly to clear the air. “Regardless, I will be taking my leave, and suggest you hurry along home as well. I would hate to see you break curfew and be punished for it.”

The threat manages to wipe Byleth’s grin straight off her face. For a moment the Emperor feels a brief pang of guilt, but stifles it quickly; better she harbor no illusions about her place here.

“Good night then, Lady Byleth.”

And she walks off without a single glance back, leaving only silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth - :D  
> Edelgard - No  
> Byleth - :(
> 
> I really enjoy writing Rhea as a proper maternal figure, especially in a situation where she's had to realign her priorities as a result of raising a child. She's a good mom/grandmother, though not totally without sin.
> 
> Meanwhile Edelgard continues to be distant and cold. Her distrust of the Nabateans basically has her assuming the worst about Byleth, whom by all accounts shouldn't exist at all. 
> 
> Oh, and Byleth is going to be doing a lot of nodding in this story. That's her easiest way of communicating, so pardon the repetition. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone for the overwhelming positive response on the first chapter. It means so much to me, and I hope not to disappoint with this story. The fic will clip along at a pretty solid pace, as I don't want to make it too long.


	3. The Secret Book

“I’d like to thank the two of you for accepting my invitation.”

Even as she says that, Edelgard can feel the awkwardness roll off her tongue and infuse itself into the air, worsening an already tense atmosphere. An _invitation_ implies there exists the option to refuse, and she damn well knows that a request to a prisoner is as good as an order.

To their credit Seteth and Flayn go along with it, taking polite sips of the tea that had been prepared for them. Hoping to ease the tension Edelgard pushes over a plate of pastries, noting the eager look in the younger one’s eyes. Before her father can object, Flayn takes one and bites into it, humming in delight.

“Oh, these are from Enbarr, are they not? It’s been such a long time since I’ve had them,” she exclaims happily, forcing even a smile on Edelgard’s face. Apparently the strategy she had once used to win over a certain white-haired mage could work twice.

“Yes, I had them shipped over. Though I find traditional Imperial desserts too sweet for my liking, I am always happy to share.”

Seteth isn’t as easily convinced. His eyes flash between his daughter and the Emperor, concern evident. She doesn’t blame the man; Hubert’s intelligence had listed Flayn as his single greatest priority, a fact that could easily be exploited. As much as Edelgard found taking hostages distasteful, she was far less willing to simply let them go. Not yet anyway.

“Your Majesty, not to appear ungrateful,” he speaks up, setting down his teacup. “But for what purpose have you called us here today?”

Folding her hands together, Edelgard leans forward with a tiny smirk. “Not for any particular reason; I merely wanted to show that I don’t consider there to be any hard feelings between us. My quarrel is primarily with Rhea, not the two of you.”

His brow furrowing, Seteth takes a moment before, rather boldly, responding, “I appreciate the olive branch, but to be completely candid… so long as you hold a sword to my family, I cannot claim there isn’t any bad blood between us.”

Rather than be offended, Edelgard instead laughs. She had expected such an answer from him and is almost relieved. Pretending otherwise about their situation left far too much room for disobedience.

“Very well then.” She circles the rim of her cup with a finger, humming slightly. Then suddenly, “Flayn, you’ve been shooting inquisitive glances at me for the last minute. Is there something you wish to ask?”

Startled, the young-looking woman swallows the last bite of pastry, then nods. “Um, if you don’t mind… but do you plan on keeping us confined here forever?”

Seteth’s expression shifts to worry, as if he were scared that she would bite his daughter’s head off for asking the wrong question. Edelgard just ignores his concern and turns her attention fully to Flayn.

“That depends, though I should point out that the concept of _forever_ is no doubt quite different for us,” she says with a wry smile, finding her own remark extraordinarily humorous. “It is my intention to return to Enbarr once the Church’s social, religious, and political authority has been thoroughly dismantled and reformed. I would very much like to work out an arrangement for your freedom then.”

How easily that lie slips through her teeth.

Consideration would have to be made for their seemingly immortal lifespans, and while she might restore their privileges over time, Edelgard knows that confinement to the monastery is all she can offer. Seteth, Flayn, and Byleth may be insignificant cogs in a machine far larger than any of them, but they were still Children of the Goddess, their very existence a threat to the foundation of the Empire she was working to build.

And Rhea… she would be coming with her to Enbarr; the former Archbishop far too important a prize to simply unchain.

Her death would make her a martyr for Fódlan’s faithful, and her freedom would inspire dissidents to rally around the Church’s banner. No, better for the line to be drawn in the middle, forcing any Seiros loyalists - as well as the woman herself - to remain powerless.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Flayn lets out in obvious relief. Yet Edelgard can clearly see that Seteth understands it wouldn’t be that simple. Still, he says nothing, merely taking another sip of tea in silence.

If he weren’t tied down by the love he held for his daughter, she would imagine him to be very dangerous indeed.

“Um, Emperor Edelgard…” Seemingly emboldened by the success of her earlier question, Flayn speaks up again. “This may be a little personal, but… do you have a crest?”

“I do,” she answers, unable to keep the surprise completely out of her voice. “The minor Crest of Seiros, in fact.”

“Oh, of Seiros…” Flayn purses her lips. “That’s very…”

“… Ironic?” Edelgard is painfully aware of that fact. “I suppose it is.”

“I was just curious,” Flayn offers as a way of explanation. She’s twisting her hands together, rubbing palms over knuckles in some minor form of agitation.

Edelgard pushes over another plate, this one loaded with sweet tarts.

“You know, I have a friend back in the Empire that bears the Crest of Cethleann.”

Eyes lighting up, Flayn puts her hands together in excitement, to the point where even Seteth appears caught off guard. “Oh, how delightful! I’ve never met anyone with my crest before.”

“That is probably for the best,” Edelgard admits, thinking of the man in question. “Linhardt would no doubt wish to study you… and he doesn’t have much respect for privacy and personal boundaries.”

Seteth grunts in disapproval. She decides not to mention the certain noble that shared _his_ crest. No one deserved to be wantonly compared to Ferdinand von Aegir.

Still… maybe there was a chance to learn something new. This conversation had certainly steered itself in the right direction for a little information gathering.

“Tell me,” Edelgard says, causally taking a sip of tea so as not to appear eager. “But does Byleth have a crest of her own?” If any, it would make logical sense for her to carry the Crest of Seiros.

“No, one never manifested for her,” Seteth replies, his answer coming not fast enough to be suspicious, and not late enough to indicate a falsehood. The Emperor of Adrestia prides herself on discerning lies as well as she can dispense them, and the truth is all she can hear.

Or at least what he thinks is the truth.

“I see. I suppose that makes sense given her heritage.”

Flayn mumbles something, but her words are lost against the tart she was currently stuffing in her mouth. Her father rolls his eyes, but a soft smile graces his lips, and Edelgard can’t help but feel a pang of _something_ at seeing such an obviously happy family.

No matter what may come, she resolves to at least keep these two together. Enough misery had already been inflicted on the world at her command. More might happen as the world rebuilt itself.

It was unfortunate that they had to be caught in the middle of it.

~~✿~~

For what felt like the millionth time that afternoon, Byleth silently sighs to herself as she slides yet another book back into place. It wasn’t that she minded sorting the dusty shelves of the Garreg Mach library; she certainly liked it a lot more than Flayn did, who always complained when she was assigned it. Yet she had been repeatedly given the task for almost a week straight - no doubt designed by Rhea to keep her safe and out of sight of the Imperials.

She had not been happy about her evening encounter with the Emperor.

Byleth doesn’t particularly think that was her own fault; she was just trying to be polite. How was she supposed to know Edelgard apparently ran on perpetual irritation?

It was actually quite upsetting, because she had found her display of combat expertise rather interesting. Having been forbidden from learning to fight with the Knights kept her curious about such things.

If anything, seeing the Emperor’s physical exertion made her -

The sound of the library door opening and the front desk bell ringing snaps Byleth out of her daydream, and she trudges over from behind the bookshelves. Her mood brightens considerably when she sees Dorothea waiting with a smile.

“Hey By!” It hadn’t taken long for the brunette to give her a nickname as well, and she supposes that meant they were friends of a sort - or at least as much as one can be on friendly terms with their captor.

Waving, Byleth steps behind the counter and notices Dorothea was returning a large and old tome titled _Register of Imperial Nobles._

“Edie was having me do some research on her behalf, but I have the information I need now,” she explains as the mute woman writes down the date of return on a card. “And not a moment too soon; I swear that book is drier than the great Sreng desert.”

Having read every piece of text in the library at some point, Byleth agrees. She much preferred tales of action and romance, featuring gallant knights and righteous kings. And the occasional horror story.

She motions to the rest of the room, asking if Dorothea needed help finding something else.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you to offer, but I was just returning this.” Leaning forward, she rests her chin on the upturned palms of her hand. “And maybe to see if things are going okay.”

Byleth shrugs, indicating things were as well as they could be considering the circumstances.

“Anyone giving you trouble?” Her eyes flash. “I swear, I’ll have Hubie ‘remove’ any guard that treats you or your family poorly”

She wonders exactly how Hubert would get rid of anyone, and decides maybe it’s for the best she doesn’t know. Instead she grabs a blank card and quickly writes down a proper answer.

_We are fine. A little cooped up, but that is to be expected I think._

Dorothea reads it over, running a hand through her long hair. “I can try and get Edie to relax some of those restrictions, but it might take time.”

_You’ve already done so much for us._

“Well, someone has to be the voice of compassion around here. Edie and Hubie are good people, but I swear, they only feed each other’s more negative impulses.” Dorothea sighs. “But that’s why they keep me around.”

_How did you end up serving her?_

“Oh, we met at the Enbarr officer’s academy. She was that year’s class leader, and I guess we hit it off pretty well. Once the war started, I was offered a place as her retainer.”

Nodding, Byleth supposes that made sense. Despite her more casual mannerisms, she could detect the discipline of a soldier in how the brunette carried herself.

“Anyway, I have to get going. Thank you for putting up with me,” Dorothea says with a wink. “It’s always a treat to talk with you… or _to_ you.”

Byleth smiles at the joke, nodding her head in agreement. She waves to the other woman as she leaves, then turns her attention back to the book that had been returned.

_Register of Imperial Nobles._

For some curious reason she can’t quite explain, she decides to open the book to the middle section. As if preordained, the first word on the page catches her eyes, and she finds her finger tracing the inked letters.

_Hresvelg._

What was it that Rhea had said? She and the first emperor were close, and so Byleth finds his name at the top of the list. _Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg, eyes of gray and hair of brown. Crest of Seiros._

Below that was his firstborn son, Lycaon I. _Eyes of gray and hair black as night. Crest of Seiros._

Intrigued, Byleth follows each name down the family tree, noting that despite the occasional changes in hair color, the Hrevelgs generally kept Wilhelm’s eyes. She also noticed that as the thousand-year dynasty stretched on, the Crest of Seiros became less and less prominent in each of the emperor’s children, prompting the need to have multiple consorts.

Apparently the book hadn’t been updated in the last decade or so, as the current emperor was still listed as being Ionius von Hresvelg IX. _Eyes of gray and hair of brown. Crest of Seiros._ Just like his ancestor.

And below that, near the end of the list was the one name she actually knew. The woman responsible for starting Fódlan’s great war and bringing the entire continent to its knees.

_Edelgard von Hresvelg. Eyes of lilac and hair of brown. Crest of Seiros._

Wait.

Brown hair? Byleth frowns as she double checks that. The Edelgard she knew had silver-white locks, flashing like ice under the sun and moon.

Confused at what must clearly be a mistake, Byleth follows the family tree to an outside branch representing the union of Ionius to someone named Anselma; seemingly Edelgard’s mother.

_Anselma von Arundel. Eyes of lilac and hair of black. No crest._ She also had a brother, Volkhard, with the same physical features.

Did Edelgard use dye? Byleth wasn’t sure how else to explain this discrepancy. Not that it ultimately mattered to her, but she remembered that Tomas used to keep immaculate records before his retirement. It was strange to imagine him slipping up like this.

And there was something else… According to the information the book presented, Ionius had eleven children in total, most of them older than Edelgard herself. And of those, at least three possessed a Crest of Seiros.

So how had she become the Adrestian Emperor? The line of succession clearly fell to the eldest crest-bearing child. By that logic, Wilhelmina von Hresvelg XII should have ascended the throne when her father passed. Had Edelgard deposed her siblings in order to claim the title of emperor? Byleth shivers at the thought.

If she was willing to do that to her own family, then what would she do to hers?

Closing the book, Byleth’s finger absentmindedly taps the spine, and she lowers her eyebrows in frustration. There was still so much she didn’t know, if this was even a thread worth pulling on. Rather than puzzle over it meaninglessly, she decides to put the tome back and avoid suspicion.

Except she quickly realizes that there was no place for the book amongst the shelves. The section on Imperial politics already carried copies of the _Register of Imperial Nobles_. Flipping through those revealed that the Church’s records were even more out of date, not having inscribed any royal births in the last six decades.

Turning back to the inside cover gave Byleth an answer, followed by more questions. _Property of the Imperial Library of Enbarr. Removed from circulation by order of Minister von Vestra._

Had Dorothea returned the ledger on accident, or on purpose? Byleth scratches her head in confusion, wondering why the retainer had brought a forbidden book with her, or why Hubert had felt the need to pull it in the first place. For a moment she debates simply returning the tome…

… Only to slip it into her bag instead. The Empire may hold her family at the edge of a knife, but she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity for some sort of weapon, minuscule as it was.

There was something in there that Edelgard didn’t want anyone to see, and Byleth knew it must be related to the mystery of her appearance and ascension.

She remembers their first meeting and the look in those lavender eyes as Edelgard’s hand brushed against her face, then her hair. She had recoiled then, fighting back against her chains because of the myriad of emotions that swirled in those bright orbs. Loathing, anger, uncertainty, and even _fear._

Fear…

Byleth couldn’t help but wonder.

What was Edelgard von Hresvelg so afraid of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Edelgard/Byleth this chapter, sorry. :( 
> 
> Dorothea: Hey, just returning this book.  
> Byleth: But this isn't ours.  
> Dorothea: _Already gone_
> 
> hmmmm... 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone reading! This story is just the breath of fresh air I needed, so hopefully I can focus on my other stuff while I continue working on this as well.


	4. Edelgard, Byleth, and Hubert

Edelgard always rose with the dawn.

A habit picked up before and during the war, she now kept it after as a means to practice discipline; she would not allow herself to rest. Fódlan deserved an attentive leader, and she would endeavor to prove herself worthy of that.

Each day starts the same - after getting dressed, she would meet Hubert for breakfast, her childhood retainer briefing her on any new developments while she ate. Dorothea would then show up after she had finished, with her and Hubert taking their meal together in order to set the agenda for that day.

Meanwhile, Edelgard would already have started on the massive amount of paperwork that always found its way to her desk. Troop movements, requests for aid in the conquered territories, reports of promising local political talent, as well as of practicing dissidents… it was all seemingly never-ending.

Still, she much preferred scratching her signature onto parchment than waging war, even if the former was painfully dull in comparison.

“Oh Edie!” Dorothea sings as she enters the commandeered office - formerly the Archbishop’s - with another stack of paperwork in her arms. “You’re looking absolutely radiant today.”

Edelgard can feel her cheeks flush at the compliment. To this day she wasn’t sure if her friend’s honeyed words were meant to be flattering, flirty or just friendly, but it was always disarming nonetheless.

“Dorothea, please tell me there’s some good news buried in that mountain of paper.”

“Well…” The former diva flips through the stack. “Looks like we managed to get that aid delivered to the Dukedom in time. Should tide them over before the next harvest season.”

That was somewhat of a relief. Leicester had folded easily enough following the capture of Derdriu and the exile of the former Duke Reigan, but Faerghus was a completely different beast in nature. A harsh land of hardy people and stubborn traditions called for a vastly different approach, and the Empire simply did not posses the resources to occupy it in full.

Rather than spend the rest of the year pacifying minor uprisings, Edelgard had simply decided to leave it alone. The public execution of Cornelia did wonders to ease tensions among the commoners, especially after the first shipments of foodstuffs had arrived. Ferdinand’s suggestion had been right; the easiest way to win over people was through their stomachs.

Especially when rebellion would mean starvation.

“Well, that’s something I suppose.” Taking the top paper, Edelgard scans it quickly - another report regarding the brutal slaughter of an Imperial patrol near the Kingdom-Alliance border. The third in the same number of months. “Where’s Hubert? I need to discuss this matter with him.”

Setting down the rest of the paperwork, Dorothea shrugs. “He said there was something he needed to investigate, related to the you-know-what you’re looking for.”

Ah, that meant he had found a clue of some sort. There had been no progress in their search, so this was indeed welcome news. Even if she wished he had deigned to share with her.

“And what about your report? Any update regarding our ‘guests’?”

Dorothea shakes her head. “More of the same. They trust me a lot more than you or Hubie, but not enough to spill any secrets. We can play ‘good Adrestian, bad Adrestian’ as much as we want, but at the end of the day they know I’m on your side, not theirs.”

“Hmmmm.” Edelgard dips a large feather-quill in an inkpot, setting it to a piece of parchment. “That’s fine. No need to apply the pressure just yet.”

She doesn’t fail to notice the uncomfortable expression on Dorothea’s face, but ignores it. Her silence is intended to be a dismissal, but as she begins to write, the other woman doesn’t leave.

“Actually Edie, there’s something I need to talk with you about,” her retainer says, leaning over the desk. Her tone was serious, far more so than usual.

“Yes?”

“So, here’s the thing…” Dorothea taps a finger in some pattern that only made sense to her. “As it turns out, the Church was looking after quite a few refugees and orphans before we moved in.”

Edelgard flicks her eyes up, but doesn’t stop writing out a missive for the governor of the newly incorporated Ordelia-Daphnel territory. “And what of it?”

“It’s just that with all the changes and restructuring going on, they’ve sort of slipped through the cracks as of late.”

“Hubert and his people handle finances, you know that. If there’s a problem with allocation for our social relief programs, talk to him.”

“Edie, he told me to talk to you.”

That does cause a momentary jolt of her hand, resulting in the letter _H_ she was neatly inscribing to posses a far larger trail than intended.

“What?” Edelgard glances up, letting the quill rest against the paper. It wasn’t like Hubert to pass on responsibilities to her. Whatever clue he was investigating must really be of importance. “Okay… I suppose we can bring it up at the next proxy council meeting…”

“They need help now, Edelgard.”

Looking up from the now finished missive, Edelgard frowns. It was a complete rarity for Dorothea to use her full name instead of the affectionately given nickname. “There’s an infrastructure in place for how we do this.”

“No offense, but that _infrastructure_ sucks.”

Edelgard bristles slightly at the sternness of her retainer’s tone.

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” she asks. This wasn’t the first time they had argued over vague terms, though Hubert was usually present to take Her Majesty’s side.

“Why, because I’m not allowed to care about the wellbeing of others without an ulterior motive?” Dorothea snaps back. “That I can’t care for the people’s lives _we_ uprooted? Maybe… maybe I just want to feel like the good guy for once.”

The brunette’s words strike her like an arrow, and the Emperor bites back the urge to retaliate in kind. It had been taught, instilled in her that she was beyond reproach. For her to behave this way… the Flame Emperor would-

_”A weapon does not think for itself, dear niece. It merely responds to the commands of the one who wields it. Anything less or more would make it imperfect, and therefore useless. Do not let us think you are without use, little Edelgard.”_

-clenching her hands tightly, Edelgard takes a deep breath. She had almost slipped back into that familiar role, and the ease of it terrified her. Softening her own expression, she looks back up to Dorothea.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Dorothea seems surprised.

Edelgard nods. “I’ll draft an order to allocate funding for the Church’s existing programs, at least until we can include it properly in the next budget meeting.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, the retainer smiles. “Thank you, Edie. And I’m sorry for getting upset with you. It’s just…”

“I understand, Thea. The war wasn’t easy on you, I know that. And this particular topic is… personal.”

She reaches over and takes the Emperor’s hand, squeezing the silk glove gently.

“Maybe it is. But I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. Not because I’m technically your subordinate, but…”

“… Because you’re my friend,” Edelgard finishes. That had been a routine of theirs since asking Dorothea to join her and Hubert’s inner circle. “Again, I understand.”

The smile is shared between them.

“If anything…” Edelgard trails off, bitting down softly on her lower lip. “I’m rather envious of you sometimes.”

“Oh?” Dorothea looks genuinely surprised. “I can’t imagine anyone feeling that way, especially you.”

Yet Edelgard felt as though she were understating it. She often found herself admiring the best things about the songstress; her angelic singing voice, her optimism in uncertainty, and even her desire to help others. Dorothea worked hard to hone her natural gifts, while the Emperor had them forced on her with needles and blood.

“I…” she finds herself turning away out of shame. “It’s just that you’re so kind and compassionate in ways that I’m not.” She looks down. “And I can’t help but feel broken inside because of it.”

Suddenly there’s a strong pair of arms wrapping themselves around her, and Edelgard finds her vision flooded by familiar brown hair.

“Oh Edie…” Dorothea hugs her tighter. “Please don’t say that. You are not broken.”

For a reason she can’t quite explain, her mind conjures up the image of Byleth Eisner, that green-haired woman without a voice. Now Edelgard cringes. Last time they met, she had _threatened_ her for no good reason. Why? So she could feel better about herself?

It reminded her too much of Thales, who was cruel for the sake of cruelty. Of Cornelia, who wielded it like a weapon. Of Solon, who used it as a guiding principle in his research. Of Edelgard, who willingly sent thousands to their death as if it meant nothing. How was she any different?

No, Edelgard von Hresvelg had her humanity torn from her a long time ago. Perhaps that was for the best; she often reflected on the irony of needing to be a monster to fight monsters.

“After everything we, no, _I’ve_ done… is that not a reasonable conclusion to reach?”

“You’re not the Flame Emperor anymore,” Dorothea assures her.

Edelgard wishes that were true.

Still, no need to keep treading the same waters. “I… thank you, Thea.”

She settles back, watching as the brunette brushes the hair from her bright green eyes. “Edie, you know I don’t like it when you make that face. You are far too lovely to frown so often.”

“I am not _lovely_ ” Edelgard retorts, unable to hide the slight pink that dusts her cheeks in response.

But Dorothea just huffs in disagreement. “Oh yes you are, and don’t try to deny it!” She crosses her arms together as she stands up. “And if you just put in the effort to get to know people more, they would agree. Maybe find you less intimidating.”

“And I am not… _intimidating._ ”

“Uh huh. So you don’t wear those horns to be scary?”

“I…think they look regal and fierce.”

Dorothea laughs. “Edie, I don’t think I’ve seen you get this flustered in such a long time!” She walks over to the other side of the desk and leans on it with her elbows, smile mischievous. “It almost reminds me… do you remember that night in Gaspard, when it was just you, me, and Hubie… and we all had a little too much to drink…”

Now Edelgard blushes like fire. “Thea! We… we promised never to talk about that.” She’s incredibly grateful that Hubert wasn’t here now.

Her retainer’s laughter only grows in response.

~~✿~~

Byleth was getting nowhere with her investigation.

She had read the _Register of Imperial Nobles_ from cover to cover multiples times, but always failed to find any further information. Whatever she was supposed to glean from the text, it must have been about the Hresvelg family and their murky past.

So her attention turned to the Church archives and records. Seteth’s reports from before the war had been meticulous and thorough, and Byleth was able to put together more information that was hopefully relevant in same manner.

For one, the Flame Emperor. Sightings of the masked figure had been frequent in both the Kingdom and Alliance capitals in the months leading to the war. Infiltration, sabotage, sowing dissidence and terror…

Then Edelgard von Hresvelg ascended the throne, and in her first action as the Adrestian leader, revealed herself and the Flame Emperor to be one and the same.

War swiftly followed.

Yet that didn’t explain the mystery of her rise to power, nor her altered physical features. Reports dating back almost two decades spoke of a plague in the north that slowly worked its way down to Adrestia. It had, for a brief time, ravaged Enbarr as it did Fhirdiad. And included in this report was a footnote marked years later that mentioned the Prime Minister’s tragic announcement regarding the royal family.

A footnote. A small mention for the deaths of ten young men and women. Children. The thought curls Byleth’s stomach.

Could it really be as simple as that? A plague killing off the heirs to the throne except for one, changing her hair color in the process?

That didn’t sit right with Byleth. Seteth always said that the easiest explanation was often the correct one, but this always seemed _too_ correct. Too convenient.

But Byleth feels in way over her head, and puts all the research material away, slipping the register back into her bag. She debates just asking Dorothea upfront what her intentions were. Tomorrow, maybe.

She locks the library, then the dining hall, the sauna, and finally makes her way to the training yard. Her footsteps were hesitant, the memories of last weeks encounter still firmly entrenched in her mind.

Seeing Edelgard again… it wasn’t that she was scared of the Emperor. Rather, she was scared of the power the woman wielded over her family.

So when she reaches the yard, she stops at the sound of steel striking burlap. It wasn’t worth it; Byleth would much rather explain to Rhea why she couldn’t complete her duties than face another possible session of scrutiny and threats.

Byleth instead turns to leave.

“Wait.”

The words are a command, and she freezes in place.

“I’d like to speak to you, Lady Byleth.”

She remains locked still.

“Turn around, please.”

Her legs and feet move before her mind can catch up.

Edelgard was wearing a simple long-sleeved training outfit, her silver hair done up in a side ponytail. She wasn’t carrying her weapon, the axe leaning against a wall. Her expression was oddly calm.

“You were quite eager to get away from me,” she says plainly. “I imagine I haven’t exactly endeared myself to you.”

Even if Byleth could speak, she would have found it hard to do so.

“I believe this to be mostly my own fault. You have been cooperating with us completely so far.”

The book weighs heavily in her bag.

“As such…” Edelgard steps closer until she and Byleth have no choice but to look each other in the eyes. “I would like to apologize.”

Swallowing in surprise, Byleth tilts her head just the slightest degree to indicate her confusion. The last thing she had expected from the Flame Emperor was an _apology_.

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard continues. “I should not have threatened you with some vague punishment because of my own discomfort. That was unbecoming of me.”

A part of her wants to refuse the Emperor’s apology, to see just how quickly she would break her own words when confronted with obstinance. This was the woman who might have deposed her family for the sake of power; forgiveness was akin to poison in her presence.

And yet… Byleth could sense the honesty in her voice. No matter what stood in Edelgard’s past, she was being truthful in this moment. Almost kind.

It was a maddening contradiction.

So she nods in acceptance of the apology. And the Emperor smiles.

“Thank you, Lady Byleth.” Walking back to grab her axe, Edelgard places it on the equipment rack. “I have finished for the evening, so there won’t be any need to wait.”

Byleth takes out the key in acknowledgment.

“That being said… last time we met like this, you expressed interest in watching my combat training,” Edelgard says with a casual air. “For the sake of making amends, I wouldn’t be opposed if you wished to do so again.”

The offer stuns Byleth. No matter how many times she had begged Seteth and Rhea to be allowed to train with the Knights, she was always refused, just like Flayn. Her father had been a great a warrior, and she frequently found herself wanting to be like him.

“Oh, piqued your curiosity have I?”

She nods vigorously, drawing a gentle laugh from the other woman. The sound was softer than she expected.

“Very well then. This would have to stay between us, mind you,” she says, sensing Byleth’s eagerness. “I have no doubt that Rhea would be against such a thing.”

Leave it to Edelgard to frame her offer as an act of rebellion, though that didn’t stop Byleth from wanting it all the same. Aside from her desire to learn from the Adrestian Emperor… she also wanted to learn more _about_ her. The truth of the Hresvelg legacy… what better way than this?

A feeling of boldness overtakes her, and Byleth clearly and carefully points to herself, then to the weapon rack, then back again. Edelgard follows with those piercing lilac eyes.

“You… you want to practice yourself?”

A nod.

“Does that mean you want me to teach you?”

Byleth bows her head to indicate that yes, she does.

It takes a second, but Edelgard eventually smiles at the idea, chuckling to herself.

“Most people would think twice before making demands of their emperor. You’re braver than I thought, Lady Byleth.” She looks her up and down, appraising her. “If you think that you can keep up… then we have a deal.”

She then holds out her hand, a surprising act of equality between two people who couldn’t be further in status. They shake on it, entering into this conspiracy together.

“We’ll start tomorrow.”

~~✿~~

Hubert finds the door locked.

It had been an exhausting afternoon thus far, and he was more than a little relieved to be near what was hopefully the end. Hours spent pursuing leads, following up on stories and chasing the remaining senior Knights still in the area had all culminated in this.

He could just track Seteth down and demand the keys…

… But instead Hubert lifts a hand and blasts the door off its hinges. Much easier.

Gingerly, he steps over the now removed and smoldering door and into the office of the captain of the Knights of Seiros. Or rather, former captain of the now disbanded Knights of Seiros.

As he knew it, Jeralt Eisner had died some twenty-odd years ago, mere days after losing his wife. Wracked by grief, Rhea never appointed a successor, choosing to leave the position empty.

A sad tale, one Hubert wouldn’t have given a second thought otherwise. But this was an _Eisner_ , a commoner line somehow elevated to being family with the Archbishop herself. Humans intermingling with Nabateans… the thought troubled him.

And if the rumors were to be believed, Jeralt also carried a crest of unknown origin. Which meant he could safely use a Hero’s Relic without harm. Even if he didn’t carry the prerequisite crest, Rhea might very well have bestowed upon him the Church’s most sacred and powerful weapon.

It was a long shot, but Lady Edelgard had tasked him with locating the Sword of the Creator, and he would follow any lead to do so.

The office was musty and without light, throwing back the curtains highlighting exactly how much dust had accumulated over the years. Coughing, Hubert begins his methodical search of the desk and bookshelves, tapping the wood and pulling books in search of possible hidden spaces. Not that he believed the relic would be housed here, but maybe a clue could be found.

Rhea continued to maintain the same vague story, claiming the weapon lost to the ages. In turn, Hubert had repeatedly offered to conduct a more ‘thorough’ interrogation, but was explicitly forbidden from doing so. As much as Her Majesty would enjoy seeing Rhea answer for her crimes, the Empire would not be the one to break the terms of their surrender first. No harm, physical or otherwise, would come to them.

So here he was, wasting his time while…

_Click._

… Now Hubert smiles. Perhaps not. A false back to one of the bookshelves gives way, revealing a small leather pouch stuffed behind it. Inside he finds a ring and a small leather-bound notebook. Flipping through the pages, he makes the decision to start at the most recent entries.

_Day 20 of the Horsebow Moon.  
All is cloudy. I can’t believe she’s dead. _

_Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth. But is that the truth?_

_And still, the child she traded her life for doesn’t make a sound. Didn’t even cry at birth._

_Day 22 of the Horsebow Moon.  
It is still cloudy. And the child, my child, has yet to make a noise. _

_I cannot help but be fearful of her health. Lady Rhea alternates between sorrow and compassion._

_Despite this fear, I have decided to name the baby Byleth. Sitri and I agreed on this some time ago, and it is all I can do for her. Her eyes and hair are stark blue, like her mother’s._

_Day 25 of the Horsebow Moon.  
It’s raining. The baby doesn’t laugh or cry. Not ever._

_Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn’t cry… isn’t natural._

_I had a doctor examine Byleth in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there’s no heartbeat. No heartbeat!_

That was the last entry, and Hubert slams the diary shut. He had gone in hoping to find some clue leading to the location of the Sword of the Creator, and instead stumbled across something else entirely.

He slips the notebook into his coat. No doubt Lady Edelgard would find the details contained within very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened that night in Gaspard? That, dear reader, I leave to you. 
> 
> As you can see, Dorothea offers a different sort of moral comfort for Edelgard. It isn't as effective, due to the differences in context between her and canon Byleth. If anything, it makes El painfully aware of her own shortcomings. 
> 
> I'm really enjoying using POV to obfuscate character motivations. It's fun when there are characters who are suspicious of each other to only get one side per scene.


	5. A Date

_Day 20 of the Horsebow Moon.  
All is cloudy. I can’t believe she’s dead. _

_Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth. But is that the truth?_

_And still, the child she traded her life for doesn’t make a sound. Didn’t even cry at birth._

_Day 22 of the Horsebow Moon.  
It is still cloudy. And the child, my child, has yet to make a noise. _

_I cannot help but be fearful of her health. Lady Rhea alternates between sorrow and compassion._

_Despite this fear, I have decided to name the baby Byleth. Sitri and I agreed on this some time ago, and it is all I can do for her. Her eyes and hair are stark blue, like her mother’s._

_Day 25 of the Horsebow Moon.  
It’s raining. The baby doesn’t laugh or cry. Not ever._

_Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn’t cry… isn’t natural._

_I had a doctor examine Byleth in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there’s no heartbeat. No heartbeat!_

Not for the first time that day, Edelgard sighs heavily as she sets down the diary. She - as well as Hubert - had puzzled over the thing for most of the prior evening, only to concede that no amount of staring would force the words to make sense.

The journal itself presented two distinct mysteries. Hubert was mostly fascinated by the idea of a child born without a heart yet still somehow maintaining life. Either that or he was secretly terrified of something that might not follow the rules of conventional mortality. She sometimes had difficulty telling the difference.

As for Edelgard, the aspect of the child’s hair and eye color was what absorbed her full attention. Byleth Eisner’s were the same shade of light green, similar to that of her family. Not, as Jeralt had written, a starkish blue.

She knew fully well that some people, mostly those born with light blonde locks, would have their own hair color change over the years, usually settling on a darker variation of the same shade. But she knew only two people whose physical appearance changed so drastically to be considered an entirely different coloration altogether.

Herself, and Lysithea von Ordelia.

Miss von Ordelia was currently under house arrest back at her family estate following her capture during the siege of Derdriu. As pragmatic as she was short-tempered, it took multiple of her ‘tea-time interrogations’ before Edelgard could pry the reason for her condition from the mage.

It hurt more, not less, to know she wasn’t alone.

And so that raised the question; could Byleth be like them? Clearly not a victim of her uncle’s schemes, but perhaps… Rhea had done _something_ to bring a dead infant back from the grave. Whatever it was might very well have dormant side-effects.

Maybe Hubert was right, and she should just force the answers from Rhea. But personal distaste for such methods aside, Jeralt Eisner had clearly felt the need to hide this from the world, and his distrust for the Archbishop was evident. Best not to alert her of it at all.

While she’s pondering this - and knowing full well that it only added to the massive amount of work she had to do for the day - there’s a quick pinch on her cheek, and Edelgard looks up to the bright emerald eyes of her conscience.

“Edie, you’re scowling again. What did I say about _happy thoughts_?”

Of course. Only Dorothea Arnault would be forward enough to treat her emperor this way. And Edelgard only had herself to blame for encouraging the behavior back at the Enbarr Officer’s Academy. Truthfully, she had just been happy to have a friend.

“Please… Thea, this is rather serious.” She taps the diary for emphasis.

“Oh, that? And here I thought you were thinking too hard about your date tonight.”

From the other side of the room, Hubert coughs on a sip of coffee.

“Date, what are you…?” Edelgard can feel her face heating up, something only that particular retainer could so easily do.

“Come now, I know that you’ve got plans with Byleth. I’m excited for you!” Dorothea smiles happily, though there’s certainly a teasing aura surrounding it.

“I am offering her a lesson on weapon’s training as a gesture of good will, and to gather further intelligence. That is it.”

Dorothea taps a finger to the side of her head. “Two attractive, single women spending time together, alone? If you were both men, _crossing swords_ would be more than a euphemism.”

A brief scoff passes through Edelgard’s throat, but dies once it reaches her lips. Why did the brunette have to make everything about sex?

So she decides to just nip the whole damn thing in the bud before she would inevitably wind up too flustered to argue back. “Dorothea, I hope you understand just how grossly inappropriate your implication is.”

Sighing, Dorothea nods. “Of course I do, Edie. I was merely teasing. And maybe…” She looks at her superior with that piercing expression of her own. “… Maybe I was hoping that one day you could see them as more than just hostages to watch after.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Edelgard replies in a softer tone. “Friendship doesn’t come naturally to me as it does for you, if at all.”

“You and I are friends, and even though he would never admit it, Hubie is our friend too.”

The man in question looks at them with a raised eyebrow, as if to say _leave me out of this_.

“Still… Thea, I don’t mind if you want to get along with them. Even I’ve been trying to be more considerate as well. But never forget that little more than a month ago, we stood at their gates ready to slaughter them to the last if they wouldn’t surrender.” Edelgard rises from her chair as if to settle the matter. “Because I promise you, they haven’t forgotten either.”

And with that, she meets Hubert at the door so they can attend the upcoming proxy council meeting. The former songstress watches with a sad smile on her lips as the two depart.

When the door closes behind them, her expression swiftly changes to something more neutral, enigmatic. Humming an old tune under her breath, she makes her way to the emperor’s desk. There sat the diary, pages still open to the last entry.

“So, it looks like he was right,” Dorothea mutters as she traces the damning phrases inked on the parchment. “She truly is the Fell Star.”

Her hand instinctually travels to the patch of skin hidden beneath the sleeve of her maroon dress. Even though she had ripped the Eye out with a hot dagger, it still felt ever-present, like the reminder it was supposed to have been.

“For all the good it did you,” she laments, then shuts the journal and walks away.

~~✿~~

The aftermath of any government meeting always resulted in more work added to the seemingly endless pile, Hubert thinks to himself. It was, like death, a universal truth. At least back when death used to be.

Scanning another expenditure report for the conquered Alliance territory, he’s interrupted by a quick knock on the door to his office - what used to belong to Seteth - followed by a mess of green hair poking her head in.

“Ah, Byleth,” Hubert greets her, trying not to look _too_ intimidating. Even if this woman was a complete anomaly, it would be far easier to keep an eye on her if she wasn’t running away. “Is there something I can do for you?”

She nods, then crosses the floor to hand him an envelope. The front is addressed to an _Alois Rangeld_ , whom he remembers as a boisterous knight that moved back home with his family following the surrender.

Opening it up, he reads the letter, scanning it for secret messages or hidden cyphers. Unless he’s imagining it, Byleth almost seems flattered at the thought.

“Let’s see…” Hubert’s eyes stop on a specific section, and he gives her an incredulous look. “ _The Adrestians aren’t too awful…_ ”

Byleth shrugs. _Not great either._

“Hmmm…” Giving the letter one last read, he returns it to the envelope and adds it to a pile labeled ’Outgoing’. “I’ll approve this.”

_Thank you,_ she signs.

Before Byleth can leave, Hubert motions to the chair across from his desk. “Why don’t you stay a minute? I’ve been wanting to talk with you.”

_Is that a request, or a command?_

Hubert can’t help but chuckle, a dark and baleful sound. “In this case, a command.” He motions again. “Sit.”

She obeys.

Leaning forward on his elbows, Hubert folds his hands together somewhat dramatically. “Now then, why don’t we have a chat, you and I.”

_Why?_

“It is my job, Byleth. I ascertain threats to Her Majesty, and if they are suitable enough, I get rid of them.”

_I’m not a threat._

“That is up to me to determine, especially considering Lady Edelgard has taken… somewhat of an interest in you.”

Byleth actually smiles. _I’m interested in her too._

“Don’t be flippant,” Hubert says with a scowl. What the hell did she even mean by that? “I’ve yet to be convinced that sparing your lives was worth it.”

As expected, the mute woman’s expression becomes downcast. In response, Hubert feels the faintest twinges of an emotion he might, if he were anyone else, call guilt.

“Convince me then, Byleth. Make me see that you and your family aren’t a future danger for us.”

Looking back up to him, she nods with more bravery than he thought she possessed. _Okay. I’ll prove you wrong._

He would be intrigued to see her try. The youngest of the Children may possess cleaner hands than the rest of her kin, but she was still something other than human.

“Really though, I just have one question for you.” Hubert tilts his head and smirks. “Are you able to transform like the Immaculate One?”

Eyes growing wide, Byleth stares at him for a moment before vigorously shaking her head _no_. But then she smiles again, and signs, _I really wish I could though._

Hubert can’t hold back a small chuckle. “I’ll confess, it would certainly be amusing, wouldn’t it? To soar through the sky… unencumbered by the trappings of the earth.” Despite that, a shiver overtakes him at the thought of being so high above ground. “Perhaps it is for the best, however. Lest we lose ourselves among the clouds.”

_You’re an interesting person,_ Byleth signs to him, and he senses she means it. _May I ask you something in turn?_

“If it is within my power to answer.”

_How did you learn sign language?_

“Ah.” Sitting up straight, Hubert allows his own expression to relax somewhat. “My mother was deaf, so I learned as a child.”

The look Byleth gives him is one he has seen many times before; most people found it hard to imagine Hubert von Vestra ever having a mother. Or having been a child at all.

_Is she in Enbarr?_

“In a manner of speaking,” he replies, grimly amused. “She’s buried there.”

Byleth instantly winces at her mistake. _I’m sorry for bringing that up._

But he just waves away her discomfort. “She passed many years ago. You couldn’t have known.” Then he smiles, and though it still comes across as rather sinister, there’s some modicum of warmth attached. “I believe we have this in common, you and I.”

She nods, her bearing far more sympathetic than should be expected for someone conversing with a man holding them prisoner. Was she always like this, to everyone?

It disturbed him greatly.

“That is all I needed from you, Byleth. You are dismissed.” He shoos her away with one hand, attention turning to some other documents. “Keep what I said in mind.”

_Good-bye Hubert,_ she signs while leaving, but her words fall on blind eyes.

~~✿~~

“I count at least three flaws in your stance, Lady Byleth. An improvement, but still flaws all the same.”

Resisting the urge to wipe the sweat from her brow, Byleth tightens her grip on the wooden training sword and grits her teeth. When they started, Edelgard had pointed out seven distinct flaws with her form. She thought that correcting four was good; apparently not good enough.

“Let’s start with your footwork.” Suddenly, the sharp wood of the emperor’s own weapon taps against the back of her legs. “It’s sloppy.”

Byleth watches as Edelgard stops in front of her. The white-haired woman was a harsh taskmaster, but she was determined not to give up.

“Straighten your legs,” Edelgard orders, “and pivot your knees so they aren’t knocking against each other. This is an offensive stance, not dancing practice.”

Again, Byleth tries to replicate the form as she had been shown, and again, Edelgard hisses in dissatisfaction at the results.

“Weak, Lady Byleth. How do you expect to defeat anyone if you’ll keel over at the first blow?”

And to demonstrate her point the emperor lashes out with her blade, crashing it directly against hers. As she predicted, Byleth feels the full weight of the strike and instantly topples to the floor, silently grunting at the impact.

It hurt, quite a lot more than she was used to.

There’s the shuffling of footsteps, and then Edelgard’s fierce lilac eyes come into view. She tilts her head, as if amused - though her face stated she was less than.

“Do you see what I mean?”

Byleth nods weakly.

“Are you ready to give up?”

Byleth shakes her head without hesitation, and Edelgard actually chuckles at the resolve.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She extends a hand. “Up and at ‘em.”

They continue practicing this aspect of the stance, and Byleth winds up on her back again no less than five more times. But eventually she does it well enough - or at least less awfully - that Edelgard nods in approval.

“I suppose that’s as far as you’ll improve on that today.” She crosses over to stand behind Byleth. “Your second flaw is the positioning of your shoulders. You’re either too tense, or too relaxed.”

Having no idea which she currently was, Byleth just tries to adjust to somewhere between the two. Evidently its the correct thing to do, as Edelgard doesn’t immediately call her out on it.

“Good, that is better. Keep in mind that while your hands hold the weapon, your arms and shoulders connect it to the rest of your body.”

The praise, no matter how faint, does cause her to smile slightly. Her emperor may be a little strict, but she wasn’t an awful teacher, and Byleth feels like she’s made some progress in their short session.

And, she reminds herself, she was also here to learn _about_ Edelgard just as much as she was learning _from_ her. Her family’s life was still in danger, especially if her unfounded suspicions turned out to be, well, founded.

“Alright, now for your last mistake.” Edelgard doesn’t move back in front of her, and Byleth can actually feel her step closer. “I think it would be easier if I guided you, Lady Byleth.” The ruler’s red gauntlets come into view, hovering above her own hands. “If I may…?”

There’s a twinge in Byleth’s chest at the question, and slowly she nods her head.

Edelgard gently lowers her own hands until they cover Byleth’s, and despite the metal between their skin, she swears a spark passes between them.

“Now then, you need to ensure your hold isn’t concentrated. Otherwise, you’re putting too much pressure in one spot.” To demonstrate, the emperor raises Byleth’s right hand higher along the hilt, creating more space.

She can instantly feel the difference, yet Byleth can’t help but be completely caught off guard by the fact that the other woman was almost pressed up right behind her. It was the closest the two had ever been together - and it was incredibly distracting.

If she didn’t know any better, it almost felt like a date.

“When your hands are too close together, it allows your opponent to more easily disarm you with a precise strike,” Edelgard explains. Her own hands tighten down around Byleth’s, the metal cool to the touch. “The same goes for your grip. Either too hard or soft, and you more easily lose control during battle.”

Not that Byleth was expecting to be in any real combat, but she follows the instruction and adjusts her hold on the training weapon.

“Very good,” Edelgard all but whispers, her voice practically in the other’s ear. “But still not enough.”

Suddenly her hand slips off Byleth’s and onto the pommel, quickly yanking the sword downwards and from the learner’s grasp. In the same movement she pulls on the green-haired woman, spinning her around so they were facing each other.

It’s in that instant when Byleth realizes just how deep those lilac irises are, layered with both light and darkness. She can see herself reflected in them, mirror-like, ethereal. And that wasn’t even accounting for the rest of Edelgard’s refined features.

For the first time, she has to contend with the fact that the Adrestian Emperor was rather good-looking.

“In the end, Lady Byleth, this is your biggest miscalculation,” Edelgard says in a low voice. “You are far too comfortable around me. And when fighting, that so easily turns you into nothing more than the enemy’s plaything.”

Byleth swallows as she processes those words, then finally bows her head to indicate understanding.

“Consider that the conclusion to your first lesson. To be completely honest, you were rather terrible.” Edelgard allows herself to smirk. “And therefore much better than I expected.”

Not really sure what to say to something like that, Byleth just bows again, this time smiling at the end. _Thank you, my teacher,_ she signs, knowing full well that the other woman wouldn’t understand.

Picking up both training swords, Edelgard casually walks them back to the equipment stand. And Byleth watches her the entire time, feeling very odd about why.

“You know, I think my favorite thing about combat is the exhilaration,” Edelgard explains without prompting, turning back around to rejoin her. “Men call it _bloodlust_ , but all blood flows through the heart and to the rest of the body. The pounding sensation as you balance life and death… it comes from there, that single organ.”

They stand in front of each other again, and despite the difference in their height, Byleth imagines herself to be the smaller of the two.

“There’s a reason advanced swordmasters focus on thrusts, not slashes. Pierce that one spot and no one can survive. It’s essential.”

Something the daughter of Sitri knew all too well.

“So, tell me then, _Byleth_ ,” Edelgard says, dropping the formal title as she reaches out to cup her under the chin with metal fingers. “How is it that someone can live without a heart?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it took to get this out. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and what it sets up! 
> 
> And it was totally a date.


	6. Mutual Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW; Depiction of a panic attack. 
> 
> Also, Edelgard is kind of an asshole this chapter, just a heads up. Mostly and incidentally in regards to Byleth's mutism, but there's also mention of her prejudice against Nabateans. Don't worry, she gets some sense slapped into her.

“Tell me, Byleth,” Edelgard repeats, her voice forceful and commanding. “How is it that you are even alive? Because unless I’m mistaken, even the Children of the Goddess need working hearts.”

Instantly she realizes the depths of her own folly. To think that she could play these sorts of games with conquerors and killers as nothing more than a sheltered woman…Of course Edelgard had been investigating her, just as she was.

“Well?” Edelgard tilts her head, looking vaguely amused. “I’m waiting for something.”

Byleth instinctively takes a step back, wanting to put distance between herself and this person who knew more than she should. But Edelgard just closes the distance at the same time.

“Don’t try to deny it, Byleth. I listened for your heart when I corrected your grip, and I heard _nothing_ except my own.”

She just shakes her head repeatedly. There was a pounding sensation developing in her chest - a symptom of her stopped organ, she knew. Had this entire session been nothing more than a trap to confirm the Flame Emperor’s suspicions?

It hurts Byleth a little to think that, because a small part of her hoped Edelgard had actually been trying to be nice.

_Stop it_ , she signs. _Please stop._

But Edelgard doesn’t. Instead her eyes actually light up.

“Ah, I expected this. Communication is difficult when we don’t speak the same verbal language.” She reaches into her pockets, pulling out a small notebook and capped featherless pen. “I would have had Hubert accompany us… but I figured you wouldn’t offer too much trouble.”

_Please, don’t._ The last thing Byleth wanted was to give Edelgard another reason to distrust her, or to put Rhea under the spotlight. Even if she gave whatever information she had, it would only fuel the emperor’s bias against her family.

Edelgard thrusts the notebook and pen into her hands, and she clutches them with trembling fingers.

“I’m going to make this very simple for you, Byleth. Write down everything that you know about the circumstances regarding your heart and Rhea’s involvement, and I won’t push this further.”

Anxiously, she flips open the notebook, only to find it was already full of writing. Her eyes scan the entries, and she comes to an abrupt realization; this was her father’s journal. One she hadn't even known existed.

It felt incredibly strange to read her father’s writing for the first time - in a way, it was the only time she had ever communicated with him, even if it was one-sided.

Edelgard huffs impatiently while she reads but Byleth ignores her, now completely lost in what Jeralt had been trying to keep hidden. Those last few entries had been inscribed only days before his own death, and she feels a profound sense of pain at his despair over Sitri’s passing.

And what he wrote… her hand reaches up and touches the strands of her hair. Green, not blue.

The gesture isn’t lost on Edelgard. “So, you didn’t know that little detail, did you?”

Byleth’s eyes look up to meet hers. She clutches the journal to her chest, backing away from the emperor with a newfound fear - things were seemingly escalating too fast for her to handle.

“I imagine there’s a lot Rhea has kept from you,” Edelgard continues, taking a few steps closer to the mute woman. “To think that amidst all her lies and manipulation, even her own family wouldn’t be immune…”

The pounding sensation in Byleth’s torso begins to worsen, and she finds herself wanting to escape as far from this scene as she can. Evidently her body language betrays her, as Edelgard reaches out and grabs her by the wrist.

“You aren’t leaving until I get the answers I’m searching for. Both you and Rhea are involved in something profoundly questionable, and I intend to discover what.”

Byleth yanks hard in an effort to pull herself free, but Edelgard was much stronger than her, and all she succeeds in doing was dropping the journal and pen to the floor. Despite the relative darkness of the night sky against the training ground’s torches, she suddenly feels as though things have gotten far too bright.

Brow narrowing in frustration, Edelgard frowns. “Don’t keep making this difficult for both of us. Or I’ll be forced to involve the rest of your ilk.”

_Stop it,_ Byleth tries to sign, but with only one hand free it becomes a jumbled mess. It wouldn’t have mattered, she knows, because the emperor couldn’t understand her anyway. Without her own voice she was more than effectively silenced, and the sensation was terrifying.

She wants Edelgard to let her go. To stop treating her as though she had done something wrong merely by living. Even just to see her for what she really was, and not what her preconceived notions imagined her to be.

Byleth doesn’t quite know when she stopped breathing.

One second she was standing, the next she feels her back against the wall as the pressure in her chest threatens to explode. Her throat felt as though a snake were constricted around it, and the brightness in her vision only grew, blotting everything else out.

“…Byleth?”

The room starts to spin, and she tries to close her eyes to ground herself. Instead, all it does is highlight just how much she has to fight for each intake of air.

“Byleth!” There’s the sensation of a hand pressing down on her shoulder, and the voice is right next to her. “You need to listen to me, okay?”

Shaking her head, she isn’t sure if that’s something she’s even capable of at the moment. Not when her own body was seemingly fighting against her.

“Just focus on my voice. Can you try that?”

A faint nod.

“Good. Now, I need you to take a deep breath.”

She’s almost certain doing that might kill her.

“You have to trust me on this, Byleth. Breathe in, and I’ll count to two. Then let it all out. Okay?”

Not knowing what else she could do, Byleth nods again, then takes in a lungful of air.

“Just like that. Now, one… and two.”

Exhaling, Byleth doesn’t exactly feel any better. Just a tiny bit more in control.

“Let’s do that again,” the voice tells her, the sensation on her shoulder shifting down to the top of her arm. It’s comforting amidst the running terror of her own distress. “Breathe in.”

She does.

“Once more, one… and two.”

This time the action does seem to help, and she can feel a tiny bit of clarity return to her muddled thinking. Over and over again she follows the instructions, breathing in and out until the rhythm begins to seem normal.

When she finally feels comfortable enough to open her eyes, Byleth discovers that she’s slumped against the training yard wall - she doesn’t even remember sitting down.

That’s when Edelgard takes off her large cloak and carefully lowers it over Byleth’s shoulders. Surprisingly, the weight itself felt grounding.

“I know from experience that having something to surround yourself with can help relieve anxiety,” Edelgard explains, voice quiet and soft.

Unsure of what else to do, Byleth takes the ends of the cape and pulls them tightly around herself. The sensation it elicited was actually quite comforting, and she finds that it helps calm her remaining scattered breathing.

Not saying anything further, Edelgard steps away until she’s a clear distance from her. The emperor looks significantly troubled, and she stares at Byleth with a less than harsh expression.

Byleth just glares back at her with uncertainty. Without having the mantle for herself, Adrestia’s ruler actually appeared to be her proper height, rather than projected as taller.

“Byleth, I-”

But she makes an aggressive gesture with her hands, signing _Leave me alone_ in such a way that even Edelgard couldn’t misunderstand. The Byleth closes her eyes, breathing in again.

_One._

_Two._

And by the time she finishes exhaling that last breath Edelgard was already gone, the only evidence of her having been there the eagle-emblazoned cloak she was wrapped up in.

Pulling it more closely around herself, Byleth wonders if it makes her a hypocrite to accept the help of someone she isn’t quite willing to forgive.

~~✿~~

She avoids Edelgard for the following week.

It was rather easy, since the emperor was always busy with either statecraft or matters of religious reform. On the few occasions in which they might cross paths, she makes sure to be anywhere else.

The entire thing was an uncomfortable arrangement, but she was sure neither really knew how to break the stalemate.

So she just throws herself into her work; taking care of the monastery, assisting Flayn and Seteth with their tasks, and guiding a few sermons for the small amount of the faithful that made up the occupying Imperial force.

Neither Dorothea, Hubert, or Edelgard ever attend.

This also confirms to her that neither retainer was made aware of the little incident between her and their lord, since both would undoubtedly seek her out with very different intentions in mind.

She can’t tell if that’s good or bad. She honestly can’t tell how she’s supposed to feel at all.

Eventually the whole thing reaches a point where even her family can’t help but notice how frustrated and on edge she is.

“Byleth, are you doing alright?” Rhea inquires one evening as they’re cleaning up after dinner. Seteth and Flayn had gone out for a stroll, and she seemed to have been waiting to ask until they were alone. “Because I like to think I know you well enough to tell when something is wrong.”

_I’m fine_ , she replies, putting away a clean plate.

“Dear…”

Sighing internally, Byleth just shakes her head. The last thing she wanted was the former archbishop to worry incessantly over something none of them could control. They were, as always, completely at the Empire’s mercy.

“Well, I won’t push you on it,” Rhea replies, having sensed the boundaries her youngest family member had put up. “I know things aren’t exactly perfect for any of us right now.”

The air between them remains silent for a while longer as they wash, dry, and then put away the dishes and silverware. The entire time Byleth finds that her thoughts continuously return to her father’s journal - hidden and bundled in the emperor’s cape somewhere in her room - and the secrets it contained.

A hand travels up to the ends of her green hair, and she pictures it as blue instead.

She taps on Rhea’s shoulder to get her attention, then signs _I’ve been thinking about my parents lately._ It’s not totally a lie, but she feels guilty enough over the misdirection.

“Ah, I was wondering if that might be the case.” Rhea’s eyes are full of sympathy, and some personal pain as well. “Is there anything about them you want to talk about?”

_Could you describe them to me again?_ Byleth’s hands falter for a moment. _It’s difficult to imagine them sometimes._

Rhea smiles. “I’d be more than happy to, my child. I suppose I’ll start with your father.” She leans against the kitchen counter, hand to her chin in thought. “Jeralt was… well, _rough around the edges_ would be the polite way of saying it. He was very tall and broad-shouldered, and could be rather intimidating to anyone who didn’t know him well enough.

“That’s without mentioning his lack of caring over his appearance before he became acquainted with your mother. He had a sort of dull copper hair, which he never cut at the time, along with a beard he never shaved.”

That was exactly the information Byleth was looking for, but the rest of it also interested her. _And after he met her?_

“Well, there’s nothing that gets a man to change his bad habits faster than a woman,” Rhea replies with a laugh. “Once Sitri was present, he became much more willing to pick up proper grooming techniques.”

She can’t help but smile at the idea. Even though she would never meet him beyond his written words, knowing how much he loved her mother set the dull aching in her heart at ease.

“Now Sitri,” Rhea continues, “she was almost his opposite. Short and frail, but not without a fiery spirit. If you can believe it, she started to court him first, which their friends never let him forget.

“And they had a little ritual together - every time Jeralt would return from a mission he would bring her flowers, then weave them into her hair. She had this shade of blue the color of cornflowers, and he became quite adept at finding certain blooms that stood out beautifully.”

Cornflower blue… the description wasn’t new to her, but hearing it again only confirmed the slight fear building in her mind.

_Who do I take after more?_

“Your mother,” Rhea replies without hesitation. Her demeanor becomes somewhat wistful. “Not only her physical features, but her kindness as well.”

_I have your hair though,_ Byleth points out, inhaling slightly. Trying her best not to make it appear obvious, she looks carefully for her grandmother’s expression in response to the statement.

And as expected, there’s the briefest flash of something _off_ on Rhea’s face before it snaps back to normal, and she smiles faintly. “Nabatean blood is strong, my child.”

Oh. She was lying to her, Byleth realizes. For the first time she was ever aware.

But before she could ponder the why of it, Rhea reaches over and presses a kiss to the top of her head, smiling genuinely. “You know they both loved you very much, right?”

Byleth nods, because that wasn’t a falsehood. Yet she was only more confused, because she knew that Rhea loved her as well. So why did she feel the need to lie?

The question haunts her for the rest of the night.

~~✿~~

She finds Edelgard the next day exactly where it was expected; the training yard.

As always, the emperor was intensely focused on her combat maneuvers, practically obliterating an unfortunate dummy with precise swings of her axe. The actions almost seem… agitated. Angry.

Gathering the full extent of her courage, Byleth takes in several deep breaths.

_One._

_Two._

Then she walks over, kicking up dust as she crosses the yard. Right up to Edelgard, who turns around instantly at the sound of footsteps. Amidst the perspiration there’s an expression of surprise on her face, and she lowers her weapon as Byleth draws close.

“Ah, I was wondering if you’d-”

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off as Byleth strikes her flat across the face with the palm of her hand.

She hopes it hurt.

Reeling from the unexpected impact, the emperor brings a hand to her cheek, fury sketched as her expression. Then it quickly dissipates, replaced with clear understanding. “I’ll admit, I deserved that.”

Byleth nods. It had been a gamble, but evidently she wasn’t in danger of retaliation.

“Well, did that help get it out of your system?” Edelgard asks, leaning on her weapon handle. “Because I’d like to know if I’m in danger of being struck again.”

With a scowl, Byleth pulls her father’s notebook and Edelgard’s discarded pen from her bag, turns to an empty page, and writes _You’re a bastard, you know that right?_

Breathing in to calm herself, Byleth feels an odd sense of ease at having said that. Whatever fear she held for the Flame Emperor had dissipated after this incident. Now all that remained was disappointment.

Edelgard reads the message, then raises an eyebrow. “I commend your continued bravery, but you aren’t the first to tell me something similar.”

_What is wrong with you? Do you not even feel bad for what you did to me?_

“Of course I do,” Edelgard snaps. “I’m just as capable of feeling guilt as anyone. But you sent me away before I could apologize, and I didn’t want to cause you further distress by remaining.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to believe. The last time Edelgard had asked for forgiveness, it clearly didn’t mean much given what happened after. But at the same time, she had helped overcome her panic - rather effectively.

_What you did was cruel and insensitive, especially given my impairment_ , Byleth scrawls down. _I don’t want an apology, I just want you to treat us with actual respect._

“You think I hate you,” Edelgard replies.

_I’ve read your manifesto. I know what you think of us._

Despite Seteth’s best efforts, slivers of the Flame Emperor’s propaganda had made their way into the monastery during the war. Accusations of inhuman monsters pulling strings from behind the scenes, declarations hailing the end of their tyranny.

Except Byleth didn’t feel like a monster, or consider herself a tyrant. Even Rhea, the most frequent subject of their ire, wasn’t close to either in her eyes.

But it hadn’t mattered. One by one, the major powers of Fódlan fell, and the troops the Church dispatched to fortify the remaining holdouts never returned. In the end, military victory had proven the Flame Emperor right, not virtue and righteousness.

Edelgard’s expression is unreadable. “Hatred was never my motivation, Byleth. I have plenty of reasons to distrust and dislike those who are not human… but what happened was not because I hate you.”

_Then why do you care so much about my past?_

Looking over the question, Edelgard remains silent for a few moments, then sighs. Her hand travels up to the ends of her silver-white hair, and she gazes at it almost mournfully.

Maybe… Byleth replicates the action by running her fingers through the green of her own. And that’s when it strikes her.

Edelgard thought they might be the same.

Even though she already knew this particular secret of hers, Byleth feels as though they had crossed some threshold regarding honesty. So she takes her father’s diary and writes _Yours was brown, wasn’t it?_

Then she watches as Edelgard’s eyes grow wide, looking as if she had just been slapped again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out; I struggled with putting it together in a way that made me happy. In particular, I’m still worried about Edelgard’s characterization, especially as I’m trying to write her in-between her cold and not-cold selves. 
> 
> The way I see it, there’s essentially three conflicts in this story; 1.) Byleth discovering about her past; 2.) Edelgard learning to overcome her distrust of the Nabateans; and 3.) ????   
> I'll have it clarified next chapter just what Byleth actually knows and doesn't. 
> 
> Also sorry for how awkwardly the chapter kinda ends; it was the best place I could without needing to add another huge amount of words.


End file.
